


relearn my name

by Astrals (Evoxine)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Fluff, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Loyalty, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-23 19:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Astrals
Summary: The rain is coming down in sheets and all Byleth wants is to bring Dimitri home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strippedpink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strippedpink/gifts).

> Hi, I love them very much!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Set after Chapter 17: Blood of the Eagle and Lion_

“Do I have the right to live for myself?”

The sky breaks open, fat drops of water splattering apart on the ground and quickly turning dirt into mud. Byleth can see the down feathers that decorate Dimitri’s cloak soaking up the moisture, each passing second adding far too much weight to already burdened shoulders.

Words stick in his throat, a thick paste made up of a conglomeration of unspoken emotions collected over the years. Even when he was suspended in slumber for five years, damned _feelings_ somehow still managed to build up. Byleth can’t get a single word out in response to Dimitri’s question, because all of them sound wrong, taste wrong, feel wrong.

So he does the next best thing.

The fabric of his gloves are sticking to his skin, but Byleth barely notices the odd discomfort, not when Dimitri’s gazing down at his upturned palm like he’s holding salvation in his hands.

Surprisingly, Byleth doesn’t have to wait long. In fact, it takes less than ten seconds for Dimitri to respond – raindrops bounce off his vambrace when he lifts an arm, fingers uncurling from a tight fist to rest across Byleth’s own.

There’s a beat of hesitation before Byleth tightens his grip around Dimitri’s hand.

“Your hands are so warm,” Dimitri murmurs, head bowed so low that Byleth cannot see past the wet strands of his hair. “Have they always been?”

Byleth swallows. “Let’s go inside. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

At that, Dimitri lifts his head. The small smile dusted across his Highness’ lips leaves Byleth a little short of breath, and it’s Dimitri who takes the first step towards the nearest form of shelter.

“Come, Professor.” There’s a gentle tug on his hand and Byleth looks down to see that Dimitri’s fingers have somehow threaded their way between his. “I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, either.”

  
As soon as they step foot into Dimitri’s room, Byleth lights all the candles with a wave of his hand. He forces Dimitri to sit down on the edge of his bed, reaching for the clasps of his cloak as soon as he does.

“Sorry about the mess,” Dimitri says. His embarrassment is clear, from the way his brow furrows to the way his eyes dart around the room. “I, uh –”

“It’s okay.” Byleth drapes the cloak over the back of Dimitri’s desk chair and is just about to turn back to him when he notes five stalks of lilies sitting in a small vase on the shelf. He smiles. “Nice flowers. Who gave them to you?”

The red dusted across Dimitri’s cheeks are a lovely sight, one so vastly different from the pallor he’s been sporting over the last few months.

Dimitri doesn’t answer and Byleth doesn’t press. Instead, they work together to rid Dimitri of his battle armour, removing piece by piece until all of them lie in a neat pile in a corner of the room. When he’s left in nothing but his undershirt and tights, Byleth turns to leave in search for some warm food.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, don’t –”

His sentence is cut short when fingers, slightly chilled from the rain, curl around his wrist.

“Those flowers are from someone who cares a great deal about me.” Dimitri speaks quietly, but they’re in a small enough space for Byleth to pick up on every syllable. “Someone who puts a lot of faith in me and refuses to give up on me despite my many faults.”

When Byleth turns back to Dimitri, it’s to see the Prince looking right up at him, azure eye bright in the flicker of candlelight. Both stay silent, chests rising and falling as their breaths sync, Byleth’s wrist remaining in Dimitri’s loose grip.

Then, Dimitri wets his lips and runs the pad of his thumb over the thin skin inside of Byleth’s wrist. “I’m not hungry. Stay here instead? You’re just as soaked through as I am, you should at least get out of your outerwear.”

So Byleth stays.

He stays until his cloak joins Dimitri’s on the chair and his armour joins Dimitri’s in the corner. The lilies’ fragrance is barely detectable, but Byleth clings onto the scent to ground himself as he watches Dimitri slide under the covers, scooting to the side until his back is pressed up against the wall.

The invitation is silent, but Byleth takes it anyway.

His underclothes are still slightly damp, a contrast to the crisp dryness of the sheets against his exposed skin. He inches closer until Dimitri’s fingers find his by his hip, skin warm and rough with callouses. Their fingers twine.

“I don’t know if any apology will be enough.”

Byleth frowns. “I never said I needed an apology.”

When Dimitri sighs and closes his eye, Byleth is suddenly struck by how tired he looks. “I feel like I owe everyone a thousand of them. Perhaps more.”

“No.” Bringing their joined hands up to rest on the pillow between their faces, Byleth extinguishes the flames of all but one of the candles. “You don’t.” With his free hand, he traces the strap of Dimitri’s eyepatch, going from his left temple, over the bridge of his nose, and down around the curve of the leather. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Dimitri answers, soft and painfully vulnerable. Golden hair catches the light of the lone flame and Byleth thumbs at the edge of the patch. “I do.”

In the end, it’s Dimitri that does it. He’s the one that reaches back and unties the knot, letting the eyepatch slide off his face and onto the bed. Shadows and hair obscure what has just been exposed – Byleth waits until Dimitri’s head meets the pillow once more to reach up and brush away the strands of hair falling across his face.

It’s the first time he’s seen it. The skin around the socket is scarred, darker and raised. The lid stays closed and Byleth suspects that Dimitri couldn’t open it even if he wanted to. With the back of his index finger, Byleth strokes at the scars where Dimitri’s lashes brush against.

“What happened?”

Dimitri opens his mouth to reply, but when nothing comes out, he closes it.

“It’s okay,” Byleth says, now stroking across Dimitri’s brow. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I –” A deep breath. “I want to. I just don’t quite know how to.”

Byleth hums. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt anymore. The area’s numb now.” Dimitri brings their hands closer to his chest and stares down at the peaks of Byleth’s knuckles. “I did it because I wanted to stop… seeing things. People. I just wanted some peace. No more death and no more vengeance. Even if it was just for a little while, that’s what I wanted.”

If Dimitri’s squeezing his hand with a little too much strength, Byleth doesn’t say a word.

“I saw you sometimes, you know? For five years, I thought you were dead. Someone else I cared about and couldn’t save. You never said anything though. You would just stand there and look at me for a long time with something unreadable in your eyes. Then you’d turn around and leave.”

When Byleth wriggles his fingers free, a faint crease immediately forms between Dimitri’s brows. “Hey. None of that,” Byleth whispers, smoothing it out with his thumb. His recently freed hand comes to rest along the curve of a strong jaw, slightly prickly with day-old stubble. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when –”

“If I don’t have to apologise, especially when I’ve made too many mistakes to count, then neither do you.”

“But you needed someone there. And as your professor, I had a responsibility to you.”

Dimitri studies him, blinking lazily in response when Byleth’s fingers venture into the roots of his hair. “Just my professor?”

Byleth pauses, his fingertips resting behind the shell of Dimitri’s ear.

“Maybe not,” is what he eventually says.

“No?”

The sheets rustle when Dimitri shifts closer. Byleth doesn’t flinch when he feels cold toes trail along the outside of his calf.

“Maybe a little more.”

When Dimitri smiles – as wide as he possibly could – it dawns on Byleth that it’s been more than 5 years since he’d last seen him do so. It lights up his face in a way that nothing else can, the sight bringing such a sweet ache to Byleth’s entire chest cavity that he instantly craves for more.

So he leans in and brushes a chaste kiss to the corner of Dimitri’s mouth.

A hand around the back of his neck stops him from pulling back, and then Dimitri’s lips are sliding over his, the full curve of his bottom lip just a little chapped. The Prince eats up his professor’s pleased sigh and presses closer, propping himself up on his elbow and making full use of the new angle to deepen the kiss.

Byleth lets Dimitri claim his mouth, lets him taste, heat flooding through his body at the way Dimitri traces the bow of his upper lip with the tip of his tongue before licking deep. He loses track of time like this, Dimitri’s large frame above keeping him flush against the mattress and pillows, all of his senses honed in on their mouths moving together.

When they finally part for air, Byleth stares at the faint shine on Dimitri’s parted lips – _he_ did that! no one else! – and fights the urge to pull him back in.

“Maybe a little more,” Dimitri echoes.

  
Byleth, never one for sleep, wakes up just as the sun starts creeping above the horizon. He opens his eyes and a mop of golden hair meets his gaze, Dimitri’s breaths a source of warmth against his sternum in the chilly morning air.

There’s an arm wound tightly around his waist, almost as if Dimitri was afraid that he would simply up and leave in the middle of the night. Keeping his touch gentle, Byleth sweeps Dimitri’s hair back and kisses the crown of his head, over and over again until he starts to stir awake.

“You didn’t let me finish what I was saying last night.”

Dimitri snuffles against his chest, clearly fighting a tough war between falling back asleep or waking up just enough to listen to what Byleth wants to say.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed someone, but I’m here now, and from this day onwards, I will always be by your side. If you’ll let me, of course.”

When he doesn’t get a reply of any sort after several minutes, Byleth simply assumes Dimitri has fallen back asleep. He’s just about to settle back down, mind ready to daydream about the breakfast spread Dedue will no doubt have prepared in the wake of his return, when Dimitri speaks up.

“Please stay with me.”

Sometimes, with the way he carries himself and the way he dominates a battlefield, it’s hard to remember that Dimitri is just human. He’s not forged out of indestructible ore nor is his blood flowing with the power of the deities. He’s human, one with the weight of the world on his shoulders and a kingdom on his heels.

“Stay by my side, because I’ve had a taste of what it would be like and I don’t want to do this without you.”

There’s cotton in his mouth when he asks, “Do what?”

“Everything. Fight this war. Govern and rule. Exist.”

A breath catches in his throat and Byleth tugs on Dimitri’s arm until they’re lying face-to-face.

“I promise.” He kisses Dimitri once on the mouth, then once on each eyelid. Dimitri grabs a handful of Byleth’s undershirt and holds on tight. “I promise I will remain by your side, my King.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Set after Chapter 22: Oath of the Dagger_

Byleth has never been more grateful for his exceptional ability to multi-task. The mere presence of the ring in his pocket, so small but so significant, weighed heavily on his mind throughout the entire battle, and the fact that he found himself by Dimitri’s side more often than he’d strategised for did _not_ help whatsoever. Blessedly, under his not-so-focused guidance, they have all managed to make it out unscathed – well, apart from Sylvain who twisted something in his back when he nearly slid off his steed.

Now, as they take a moment to rest and regroup, Dimitri’s ahead of them, busy giving out orders to a few of his generals. Byleth hangs back under the shade and tunes out Felix’s voice as the swordsman snipes at Sylvain for being a shitty knight, all the while prodding at Sylvain’s back and making sure Mercedes heals the muscle as best as she can.

He’s so caught up in watching Dimitri be the king he was always meant to be (and perhaps a little distracted with the way the sun turns his hair a gorgeous shade of silver) that when the shade he’s under suddenly moves, Byleth startles. He looks around and realises that he’s been standing right in front of Dedue the entire time.

“Oh, I’m – I’m _so_ sorry. I didn’t know you were behind me.”

Dedue bows, the tassel on the front of his armour swinging with the movement. “Do not worry, Professor. I’m glad I could provide some relief from the sun. Are you alright? You seemed very lost in thought.”

Instinctively, Byleth’s hand brushes against his hip, where the ring lies beneath his many layers.

“I’m quite alright, Dedue. Just thinking about the future.”

Just then, Dimitri dismisses the generals and turns back to them. A light breeze ruffles the feathers on his cloak and lifts a few locks of hair out of his face, and Byleth is seized by the urge to rest his cheek against the smooth line of Dimitri’s jaw. He tamps down on that need, choosing to be content with the way the hard determination on Dimitri’s face softens ever-so-slightly when their eyes meet.

“Edelgard awaits us,” Dimitri says, falling into place by Byleth’s side. “We will advance our main forces straight to the palace, while the remaining troops stay back to secure Enbarr.”

Byleth tilts his face up towards the blue sky and squints up at the sun, wondering if his parents have found each other up there. Are they watching over him?

“It’s been a long journey,” he reflects, allowing his eyes to close for a split second or two before he turns his attention back to his class. “We’ve finally made it all the way here.”

“All of this is only possible because of you.” Areadbhar gleams in the light when Dimitri turns towards him, the faint scrape of metal across stone lost to the soft wave of agreement from the others. “We will win this, professor. We will make you proud.”

_All of you already make me proud._

Byleth might not be able to say those few words out loud, but he thinks his students already know.

  
It’s a long and tiring battle. The palace is daunting in both size and atmosphere, halls swarming with soldiers whose blood inevitably end up staining their weapons crimson as the class slowly fights their way towards the throne room.

During this battle, Byleth doesn’t think about the ring at all. What’s the point of having a ring if neither of them will be alive to use it? So he focuses on keeping his students safe, mind whirring with battle plans and strategies while he wields the Creator in his hands.

In fact, he’s so caught up in the various elements of battle that it takes running – quite literally – into the flank of Sylvain’s horse for him to stop and realise that something’s happening.

“What’s going on? Why is –”

Wordlessly, Felix yanks him forward and Byleth stumbles past the horse’s muzzle. That’s when he sees it. There, across the room and standing in front of the throne, is Edelgard. Or rather, some twisted, demented version of her.

“Edelgard…”

One of Ashe’s arrows whizzes past his ear and pierces the centre of an Imperial soldier’s throat. Byleth doesn’t even spare the soldier a glance when he falls, but in the back of his mind, he registers the fact that there are no more foes to fell between them and Edelgard.

“That’s not her,” Dimitri declares. There’s a gash running from his temple to jaw, blood smeared into his skin, and his knuckles are pale from how hard he’s gripping the shaft of his lance. “That creature is not Edelgard.”

“Your Highness,” Ingrid tries, settling a calming hand on her pegasus’ neck when it lets out a whinny. “That’s –”

“That is not her. The Edelgard I know no longer exists,” Dimitri says, sharp. He takes a breath and Byleth can see the conviction in his gaze. “Onwards.”

Felix is the first to move, wiping the flat of his sword across his thigh and leaving streaks of blood on the fabric. Then Sylvain follows, the clacking of his horse’s hooves against the marble floor echoing throughout the room. Edelgard’s skeletal wings seem to shiver.

One by one, the rest of the class begins to move, until the only people left unmoving are Byleth and Dimitri.

“Are you okay?”

Dimitri glances down at him. “You’ll be with me?”

“Of course.”

Dimitri looks back towards Edelgard and nods. “Then I’ll be okay.”

He takes a step forward and Byleth follows.

  
Everyone backs away as Edelgard stumbles down the steps, the throne behind her chipped and toppled over from the battle. Mouth open in a silent moan of pain, her knees hit the carpet and the darkness filling her eyes gradually fades away. The husk dissolves to reveal the Emperor, still regal in her final minutes, royal red robes puddled around her in an allusion of all the blood spilt.

Dimitri steps forward and extends his hand.

The sight reminds Byleth of that day over five years ago, where he’d found Dimitri in the shadows, bogged down by love and compassion until his only lifeline was a depraved sense of justice. Dimitri had taken his hand that day – will Edelgard do the same now?

“El,” he says, voice soft and earnest. His hand doesn’t tremble.

Byleth sees it in her eyes when she looks up at him; a mix of incredulity and acceptance. But acceptance of what?

Before he can give it more thought, a brief flash of metal is all he needs to snap into action, muscle memory once again serving him well. The Creator is out of its sheath in seconds, power surging through the weapon as Byleth extends his arm to –

He stops inches short of plunging the blade into Edelgard’s heart. Behind them, Annette gasps.

_Ah_, Byleth thinks. _Acceptance of death and of defeat, it seems._

Areadbhar’s curved blade is wedged firmly between his stepsister’s flesh and bones, and the sigh that escapes her pale lips is one of gratitude. Dimitri’s grip on his weapon is firm, head bowed to meet Edelgard’s upward gaze.

Byleth can see the dagger jutting out of Dimitri’s shoulder, but he knows that his armour is tough enough to prevent any serious injuries. He sheaths his sword just as Dimitri pulls Areadbhar free, drops of Edelgard’s blood sliding off the tip and blending seamlessly into her robes.

The Emperor of the Adrestian Empire falls forward, lifeless.

With a grunt, Dimitri dislodges the dagger from his shoulder and drops it by his feet. He stares down at it, at a symbol of a once-pure relationship between them now stained with his own blood, and Byleth can see him wondering where it all went wrong.

So he moves forward and takes Dimitri’s hand.

“She made her decision,” he says, squeezing once. “Once, all those years ago, and once more today. You did your best.”

He’s just about to let go and usher the rest of the class out of the throne room, intent on giving Dimitri a few moments to himself, when Dimitri pulls him in, cradles his jaw, and all but crushes their mouths together.

Areadbhar drops to the carpeted floor with a thud – that’s what attracts the attention of the others. Sylvain lets out an undignified shriek which causes Felix to swear _colourfully_, and Annette trips over her own feet out of shock, sending Ingrid’s pegasus leaping into the air.

Byleth hears the commotion all around and is vaguely aware of Dedue, bless his heart, trying to get everyone under control. He would help, but when he’s got Dimitri’s mouth on his, seemingly intent on kissing the actual life out of him, there’s not much else he can do except hold on for dear life.

It’s desperation, gratefulness, and relief all in one.

Eventually, the ferocity gives way to tenderness. Byleth cards fingers through Dimitri’s hair, slow and soothing from roots to tips. This is how they part for air, foreheads pressed together and lips swollen, rose-petal pink.

“Um,” Sylvain begins, only for Ingrid to shut him up with a pinch.

“When you promised to stay with me,” Dimitri murmurs, a gloved hand moving from Byleth’s jaw down to his waist. “Did you mean –”

“Marry me,” Byleth blurts.

“Holy shit,” Mercedes breathes.

Byleth moves back an inch or two, needing a clear view of Dimitri’s face in the wake of his question. The Prince is undoubtedly stunned, eye wide and colour riding high on his cheeks.

“Y-you want me to –”

“Marry me, yes.”

It takes a lot of effort and a lot of huffing before Byleth manages to dig the ring out of his pocket, but the full-blown blush that takes over Dimitri’s cheeks when Byleth presents it to him is _so_ worth it.

“Your Highness,” Dedue whispers, hovering awkwardly behind him. “Would you like…?”

Dimitri nods, blush still raging, and Dedue slips something into his hand.

Never in his wildest dreams did Byleth expect to see a second engagement ring within these walls. So when Dimitri holds out a ring, the colour of the stone a perfect match to that of his eyes, Byleth lets out a weird – and very embarrassing – noise of disbelief.

“I’ll say yes if you say yes?”

Byleth has absolutely no idea why Dimitri sounds nervous when he was the one who proposed first. He’s just about to point that out when Felix lets out the most exasperated groan and says, “Professor proposed first, you great idiot, why would he say no? I _cannot_ believe you’re the next King of Faerghus, how –”

There’s the sound of flapping wings and then Felix is yelling, limbs flailing as he tries not to fall off the back of Ingrid’s pegasus.

“Apologies, Your Highness, Professor. I’ll be escorting this fool out now.”

She turns her pegasus around and pauses to look down at them. “You truly deserve each other. I am so, so happy for the both of you.”

Then she’s off, smirking to herself as Felix holds on for dear life.

In that moment, there are so many things Byleth could say, but he chooses not to utter a single word. Instead, he pulls his glove off and extends his hand, wriggling his ring finger just to be extra clear with his intentions.

A laugh bursts out of Dimitri, a sunny, relieved puff of air that brings a fond smile to Byleth’s own lips.

The ring slides on and it turns out to be a perfect fit.

Dimitri doesn’t seem to want to let go of Byleth’s hand, but when Byleth kindly points out that he needs to remove his own glove for this to work, Dimitri does so immediately.

It takes a bit of twisting to get the ring on – it was made for a woman, after all –, but it’s beautiful when it finally settles at the base of Dimitri’s ring finger.

“My father gave this to my mother,” Byleth tells him, pressing his lips against Dimitri’s knuckles. He gets a quirk of pink lips in response, those bright eyes as blue as the sky outside.

With that very hand, Dimitri cups Byleth’s chin and draws him in for another kiss. “Thank you for giving it to me,” he says against Byleth’s lips, the brushing contact just enough for a shiver to race down Byleth’s spine.

“We should go,” Byleth breathes. “You have a nation to rule.”

“_We_ have a nation to rule,” Dimitri corrects, stuffing his glove into a pocket and bending to retrieve Areadbhar from the floor. He takes Byleth’s hand in his own and turns towards the heavy doors, towards their future.

Not a single one of them looks back, and Edelgard, already something of the past, is left behind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

Tracking down Rhea’s whereabouts turns out to be a two-month-long mission.

Without announcing their betrothment, Byleth departs the day after Dimitri’s coronation, taking with him a small group of their best scouts and fighters. It’s an emotional farewell, the pair of them tucked into a small alcove moments before Byleth is due to leave, trading kisses and words of love. Despite their personal desires of wanting to stay together, both are acutely aware of their respective duties and responsibilities. In the end, Dimitri sends Dedue off with Byleth, instructing his retainer to care for Byleth as he would for his liege.

They keep in touch through letters and messengers, counting the passing days until they’re reunited. The day they find Rhea, left for dead amidst the peaks of Fodlan’s Fangs, Byleth sends word back to Dimitri, listing everything they would need to aid Rhea’s recovery.

_Can’t wait to see you, my love. I’ll be home soon._

  
Dimitri meets them by the city gates.

There, flanked by guards and retainers, his smile lights up the entire area. Byleth can’t help but return it, dismounting his horse before it slows to a stop and running right up to his beloved.

“Welcome home,” Dimitri murmurs in-between kisses, thrilled at being able to have Byleth in his arms again.

Just like that, out on the streets and surrounded by the people of Fódlan, the King of Faerghus and the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros announce their betrothment.

After the commotion dies down and the royal retinue starts on the short journey back to the castle, Sylvain pinches Felix on his arm and complains, “Why don’t you ever greet me like that?”

Felix throws a stick at the back of Dimitri’s head. “I hate you, Blaiddyd. This is all your fault.”

**Author's Note:**

> I used that Reddit reasoning behind Dimitri's eye because it makes for good angst material.  
I also apologise if they seem OOC; I'm still trying to get a feel for how I want to write them!
> 
> come chat with me on twitter about these two and the game @_seiros :)
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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